


The Streets Are Never Quiet

by Trash_Squid



Category: South Park
Genre: Coon and Friends AU, F/M, M/M, More characters to be added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Squid/pseuds/Trash_Squid
Summary: The streets of South Park are never quiet. In the shadows of towering skyscrapers and the endless fumes of factories, crime runs rampant. Robberies and rape occur daily, politics are corrupt, and evil lurks behind the most friendly of faces. However, rumors of a masked vigilante that never dies have begun to spread, and an unlikely heir to the Tenorman fortune has risen. Now the teens of South Park have thrust themselves into the middle of battle that could become total warfare if they're not careful.





	1. The First Sighting

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Coon & Friends AU fic where I gave SP a Gotham twist. It's a bit of a slow burn.

The streets of South Park were never quiet. Water dripped in a painfully slow fashion from a rusty pipe, dingy street lamps flickered endlessly, and an occasional car rolled down the pavement. A light breeze scattered bits of trash, and stray animals scurried in and out of alleyways, scavenging for any scrap of food available. Even in the dark blanket of the night, the town never quite slept.  
It hadn't slept for the past 40 years either. Ever since the first tech manufacturing plant had opened back in '84, the small mountain town's economy had boomed almost overnight. Electronic goods became the new heart and soul of Colorado, and South Park grew quickly. It soon surpassed the capital of Denver in terms of size, population, and and quality. Hordes of people flooded into the city where skyscrapers rose within weeks, technology was man's best friend, and any redneck hick could become a member of the elite.  
However, the town had its own dark side as well. In the shadows of the mighty glass towers and smoke filled factories lurked something cold and sinister. From petty crime to an underground mafia, South Park teemed with demons that hid beneath the masks of desperate, selfish men and women. They swindled and dealt within the network of seedy bars and nightclubs sprinkled across the brand new city, safe from the eyes of the law. Swift, clever criminals hid away in the dark of the alleys, waiting for the perfect moment to strike down any unsuspecting citizen. People locked their doors at night, and mothers kept their children close and their eyes lowered when they left home. No one walked alone after sunset.w  
That was, of course, with the exception of Karen McCormick. As the sounds of the night filled South Park's gloomy air, the scrawny girl walked briskly down the sidewalk. She had been raised poor on the outskirts of the city with no one but her older brothers to lean on, and at the age of 15, she knew the dangers of the streets. Still, she was a petite thing, and it would take no time for her to be pinned down and robbed by a single man. Her wide blue eyes flitted around nervously as she tugged at her tattered coat. Although the walk home wasn't long, it was a gritty path lit only by the faint yellow halos cast off from street lamps.  
Suddenly, she heard rustling in one of the darkened alleys behind her. Karen stopped dead in her tracks, feeling the hair on the back of her neck bristle with fear. "It's just an animal," she muttered to herself shakily before moving forward once more. She picked up her pace quickly in an attempt to put as much space as possible between her and the rustling.  
The noise hit her ears again, only louder. She began to tremble as she turned around slowly. Staring into the street behind her, she called out quietly, "H-hello? I don't want any trouble."  
No answer was given. If it wasn't an animal, it had to just be a kid. Maybe a few of the street rats had decided to pull a little prank on her. She was honestly praying for it at the moment, for she was completely unarmed and alone. Feeling her anxiety set in, she looked around frantically for a bottle or something to protect herself. Not one piece of useful trash was laying around.  
The teenager frantically weighed her options. She was already over halfway home, and she possibly had the chance of outrunning whatever ducked away in the alley. Picking up her pace, she began to trot.  
After about ten feet, a quiet sound stopped her dead in her tracks. She could hear footsteps, soft but steady. Against every sense of judgement in her body, she turned around and saw a shadow behind her. A shadow that was coming closer with no intent on stopping.  
Karen bolted down the street. As she heard the footsteps quicken behind her, she pushed her legs forward with every ounce of adrenaline in her body. The long stretch of grimy cement never seemed to end. Panting, she turned sharply into another alley, only to run into a much larger figure.  
A pair of hands seized her roughly, clamping her mouth shut. She kicked and writhed against the iron grip of her attacker, but it was in vain. The tall, slim shadow that had chased her earlier strolled up, and she heard a gruff voice chuckle, "Looks like we got one."  
"Ain't that the McCormick girl? You know, dad's a drunk and family lives in a damn tool shed?" The tall one inspected her, and she could see the hunger in his eyes. "In that case, we ain't gonna get a penny out of her."  
The gravelly voice piped up again as his grip tightened around her, nearly crushing her small frame. "You never know till you rob 'em blind. She could be loaded."  
"Loaded with what? A nickel and a twelve pack?" The tall one cackled as he flicked open a pocket knife. The sharp blade glistened in the darkness, reflecting the moon's pale light. Karen whimpered and struggled once more at the sight of it.  
"Relax sweetheart, we ain't gonna hurt ya. All we want is what's in your pockets, and we'll send you on your merry little way."  
Karen felt the knife brush her cheek, and she shied away, screwing her eyes shut. A thin hand reached into the pocket of her coat, feeling around for her freshly earned paycheck.  
"Well, well, looks like we got a little something here." The tall shadow grinned as he tore open the crumpled envelope and pulled out a wad of cash. Karen wanted to cry. The money wasn't much, but she'd busted her ass to get it. It was all she had.  
The thief prepared to dig into her other pocket, but before his hand even reached her, a dark silhouette flew down from the heavens. There was a sharp crack as the heel of a boot connected with his jaw, and he was sprawled out on the street in seconds.  
"What the hell?" The other robber yelled, loosening his grip on Karen. She quickly slid under his arms and flung herself to the ground as a blur of fabric flew past her. Her shadowed savior slugged the other thief in the stomach, and the large man keeled over, clutching his midsection. The silhouette moved to put him in a choke hold, but the brute recovered quickly, producing his own blade from the pocket of his jacket.  
Karen saw the silver glint as he thrust it backwards "Look out!" she screamed, tears running down her cheeks. "He's got a knife!"  
It was too late. The man buried the knife in his opponent's chest, and there was the sickening, unmistakable splash of a busted artery.  
With a slight grunt of pain, the silhouette brought his knee forward, sending the larger man tumbling to the ground. The knife remained intact in his chest, and a dark stain was beginning to blossom around it. Still, he showed no sign of stopping his rescue mission. He ripped the blade out with a simple yank and threw it to the ground. Blood began to spurt from the hole in his chest as the panting criminal cowered below him.  
"Wh-what the hell are you?" The man yelled, pointing a shaking finger at the gruesome injury.  
The silhouette chose not to answer. Instead, he extended one thin arm and gestured outward. "Go," he commanded in a deep, cold voice.  
Both men jumped up and limped off into the night, wheezing and gasping for breath. Karen, who was crouched behind a garbage can, waited silently until the sound of their footsteps disappeared. She rose to her feet and faced her hero, still shivering in shock.  
"Are- are you okay?" She pointed to the bloody wound in his chest.  
He nodded solemnly and ran his long gloved fingers over it. There was a soft green glow, and almost magically, the bleeding stopped. Karen's eyes doubled in size. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe.  
The hero knelt down and picked up the scattered remains of her paycheck. A few bills had already blown away in the breeze, but he folded what was left and handed it to her quietly.  
She took it in one wobbly hand, still at a loss for words. Stammering, she felt the question fall out of her mouth. "Who are you?"  
Her savior looked her in the eye, and she could see a lean, pale face behind a black scarf. "You can call me Mysterion."


	2. A New Heir

_DNA Test Confirms That Eric Cartman is the Estranged Heir to Tenorman Wealth_

_After an unfortunate accident in Chile left billionaire Jack Tenorman and his family dead, the citizens of South Park have been wondering who their wealthiest corporation will belong to. Well, they shall wonder no more. As of yesterday, a recent DNA test has proven that 18 year old Eric Theodore Cartman is the remaining son of Jack Tenorman. Seeing as how young Eric is of age, Tenorman Enterprises and its billions of profits now belong to him. It is unknown what effect this sudden change will have on the economy so far. See page 8 for more._

Kyle Broflovski’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he stared blankly at the newspaper in front of him. It couldn’t be true. It just wasn’t right. If there was a single ounce of justice or karma in the world, then how the hell did Eric Cartman make billions overnight? His mind scrambled for the answer as his eyes moved from the horrifying text to his mother as she scolded Ike over a broken glass.

“M-Ma? Did you hear about Cartman?”

“Now Ike, I told you- what Bubbie? Oh yes, the Tenorman ordeal. If you ask me, we all knew who the father was. Now why don’t you call him and congratulate him? I’m sure the situation is very stressful, and the Cartmans need all the help they can get.”

As if on cue, Kyle’s phone began to buzz excitedly. He took one look at the contact name and reluctantly answered, “What do you want, fatass?”

“You didn’t happen to see the paper this morning, did you Kyle?” the caller drawled, rolling out the name like Kahl. His childhood speech impediment hadn’t improved over the years.

“Yeah, you’re rich now. Big deal! I bet you called just to rub it in my face.” The redhead’s eyes rolled as he moved to the living room. Conversations with Cartman often involved vulgar language that his mother insisted “would taint Ike’s mind”. She didn’t seem to notice that the kid already cursed like a sailor.

“No, no, of course not,” Cartman corrected, “I called to rub it in your _stupid Jew_ face.”

Kyle fumed. “If that’s all you want, I’m hanging up. Maybe you can afford a treadmill now, fatboy.”

“Wait! I wasn’t finished, Kyle! I know you’re in a rush to get back to your peasant life, but Heidi and I were wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight.”

“Dinner? Why the hell would I want to eat dinner with you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing fancy. Just some of the finest food in South Park served in my penthouse apartment,” Kyle gritted his teeth as the other boy carried on. “Of course we invited the rest of our friends. Kenny, Stan, even that stuck up bitch Wendy. It was going to be a formal event, but I figured some of you couldn’t afford the clothing.”

“Fine, I’ll be there. This better be good if I’m wasting the evening on it.”

“Six o’clock sharp, and don’t be late. You won’t regret it, Kyle. It’s gonna be amazing,” Cartman yawned, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got so much to do! I have to move into the new penthouse, pamper myself, order catering-”

“I get it. You’re a billionaire,” Kyle huffed before hanging up. He shuffled back into the kitchen, grumbling.

“Who was that?” Ike asked as he pushed the food around on his plate. He’d grown as tall and thin as a beanstalk, and their mother was always pressuring him to involuntarily eat.

“Who do you think?”

“The fat one,” Ike giggled before teasing him. “Was he asking you out on a date tonight?”

“No!” His brother’s face grew as red as his curls. “He invited me to a celebratory dinner. Learn the difference.”

Ike only giggled again with a shrug. Grimacing, Kyle glanced at the clock on the wall. He had nine hours to go. **********************************************************************************************************

“Wendy, it looks fine.”

“It’s crooked, Stan! You can’t sell anything in an art gallery if it’s full of crooked paintings!” Wendy’s usually musical voice held a harsh edge as she straightened a watercolor angrily. “Are you sure you hung it right?”

“Positive.”

“Then I guess it just magically falls to the right every time I turn my back!”

“Wendy, you need to calm down,” Stan wrapped a comforting arm around her. “It’s no big deal if it’s a little crooked. People come to look at the art. Haven't you already gotten one returning customer?”

“Liane Cartman,” she replied, glancing down at her order sheet, “She ordered five pieces for that new penthouse of hers. Then the Stotches purchased a small acrylic yesterday.”

“See, we’ve got a good start. People will come flooding in when they hear the richest folks in town shop here.”

Her worried brown eyes met his dull blue ones. “We _need_ this gallery, Stan. We have plans, remember? We’ll use the profit to rent out an apartment, and when the summer ends, you’re going to college on a football scholarship. I’ve already landed a job at The South Park Post. It doesn't pay much so far, but I'm working as hard as I can. In a couple years, I'm going to be-”

“The youngest Pulitzer Prize winner ever. I know, Wendy.” Stan’s ears threatened to explode if he had to hear her talk about that stupid prize one more time. He loved her, but Jesus, she couldn't let go of some things.

“What’s the matter with you? You helped plan all of this.”

“Yeah, but…” he paused, exasperated. “You shouldn't dictate every single second of our lives. Shit happens, you know?”

She sighed heavily as she straightened her pink beret. “I know. It's just that you need to put effort into this if you want the best for us. I've spent the whole week resurrecting my mother’s art gallery for this, and I need you to work with me.”

He nodded with a small smile of reassurance. She was still the same headstrong Wendy Testaburger that he’d fallen in love with nearly a decade ago. She’d blossomed into a curvaceous woman with a heart of gold and a mind like a steel trap, the perfect face of South Park’s journalism. Stan only wished he was enough for her. He was a kind boy and the finest quarterback in Colorado, sure, but he always had the ugly suspicion that deep down, she wanted more. A more political man or a deeper thinker. When Stan’s thoughts were deep, they turned depressing, and he couldn’t stand it. He’d rather pretend to be happy than force himself to feel miserable.

“We’ve got dinner at six,” Wendy reminded him, “And I've got an interview to set up.”

“An interview? With Cartman? Yeah, you’ve got a real fat chance of making that happen.”

“He won’t turn me down with his mother there. My career is depending on this. I already told my boss that I'd arranged it.” “He’ll probably still find a way to screw you over, like he always does.” She gave him a stern look. “And I'll kick his ass if he does. I don’t care who he is now. If he has time for a DNA test, he has time for my interview."

**********************************************************************************************************

When Kyle showed up at the apartment, he had to admit it was a nice looking place. The design was sharp and modern with bits of bright colors that stood out against the drab landscape of the city. He immediately recognized the skinny brunette that answered the door as Heidi Turner, Eric’s prodigy of a girlfriend. She greeted him warmly and welcomed him inside, where everyone else was already seated at the massive table. On one side, Ms. Cartman was sitting in a black dress that was obviously intended to show off her cleavage. Kyle didn't have a doubt in his mind that Kenny was taking a few good long looks at that. Between her and Heidi, there was a chair and loaded plate intended for Cartman. Wendy had been placed at the end of the table, where she was flicking debris off her sweater. He took a seat between Kenny, who’d removed his hood only to pick at the lobster on his plate and ogle Liane, and Stan, who just stared at the unappetizing lettuce wrap in front of him.

“I forgot you were a vegetarian, dear. My mistake,” Liane apologized softly to Stan, who just shook his head.

“It’s really alright, Ms. Cartman. I like lettuce.” The older woman smiled pleasantly, and Kyle couldn't help but think she deserved a better son. Then again, Cartman’s mother was one of the very few people he openly showed love towards, even if he treated her like a maid more than a mom occasionally.

Before anything else could be said, Cartman strutted into the room like a peacock. His mousy brown hair has been brushed out, and his pale skin was clean and smooth, for once. He was clad in a quite form fitting black suit with a large bow tie. His amber eyes gleamed like hot coals as he took a seat at the table.

“You look lovely, darling!” his mother exclaimed, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Mom,” Cartman replied, batting his eyes in a sickeningly sweet fashion.

“I’ll have to get a picture of you later, babe,” Heidi piped up, “If I could find my polaroid, we’ll have something for my scrapbook!”

With a smug smile, Eric turned to the rest of the guests. “Did I mention Heidi picked up photography? She’s good at it too, just like everything else.”

The two shared a smile that made Kyle want to vomit. At least Heidi was someone that Cartman treated better than himself, even if he held her on a giant pedestal. He stared at them curiously. They were like yin and yang. She was a sweet, quiet kind of genius that could destroy equations within minutes, and Cartman was more of a cunning, sharp genius that could destroy mental stability within days. Even the way Heidi’s dress hung limply off her frail figure contrasted with how Eric’s suit clung to him tightly, displaying his body for the world to see.

“If you’re really into photography, you could join the paper,” Wendy added, “The pictures are one of the best parts.”

“Oh, no,” Heidi declined, blushing lightly. “It’s just a little hobby of mine. Besides, I’m really trying to get a head start for college, so I can join SpaceX as soon as possible.”

“What’s that?” Stan asked, grateful to take his mind off the soggy lettuce wrap.

Heidi opened her mouth, but Cartman chose to answer for her. “It’s the future, dumbass. They’re going to colonize Mars, and Heidi’s gonna be the head engineer one day.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Heidi blushed again. “I just want to be part of it.”

“Admit it, Heidi. You’re smarter than all of us combined, and I will do anything to get you in that company.”

Kyle crinkled his nose at the first statement, but he chose not to say anything. He wasn’t in the mood to let Cartman ruin dinner for everyone. Unfortunately, the other boy looked him dead in the eye and said, “You’ve been awfully quiet, Kyle. Why don’t you have some lobster?”

“Because,” Kyle snapped, “I _can’t_ eat lobster, and you know it, lardass.”

Ms. Cartman released a small gasp of shock, although she remained quiet. Her son rolled his eyes. “Of course, because you Jews can’t eat anything good. Even after my lovely mother spent a fortune on this beautiful meal, you still turn it down for your stupid traditions.”

Guiltily, Stan bit into his mushy wrap, and Heidi quickly gulped down a few more forkfuls of her potatoes. Kyle glared at Cartman as he grabbed one of the golden dinner rolls and took a bite of it. Chewing and swallowing it loudly with a sip of water, the redhead slammed the glass on the table. He turned to Liane. “The food is delicious, Ms. Cartman. Thank you for inviting me.”

She gave him a tight, forced smile and a nod. “Eric enjoys the company of his friends.”

No one had noticed that Kenny had wiped his mouth and pulled his parka back up. Even in the heat of summer, it was always on him. The tall boy stood up and mumbled something about a curfew before stuffing a napkin full of food in his pocket.

“Is that for your sister?” Liane asked politely. “I’d be happy to make you a little doggy bag. There’s far too much food for just Eric and me.”

Kenny nodded quickly, although a few more muffled words were lost in translation.

“What was that?”

“He said that he’s in a hurry, Mom,” Cartman told her. “Kenny’s got places to be.”

“At only 6:30? Alright then, here you go, dear.” She handed him a small white bag of food, and he thanked her quietly before dashing out the door.

The rest of dinner was rather peaceful. They talked about college, the art gallery, the upcoming election for mayor (and Mr. Garrison’s surprisingly successful campaign), and Wendy badgered Cartman for interviews. Kyle kept his mouth shut for most of dinner, and Cartman managed not to provoke him. About an hour and a half later, the phone started to ring.

“I wonder who that could be,” Liane said as she rushed to answer it.

“Probably just a telemarketer, Mom. Those assholes are always calling.”

Everyone fell silent as they heard Liane’s hushed conversation with the caller. “Package? I haven’t ordered anything lately. A gift? Well, can it just be brought to the door? I’m in the middle of dinner. Oh, I see. Alright, I’ll be right there.”

She walked back into the dining room. “I have to go pick something up at the front of the building. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Before she left, she placed a kiss on Cartman’s head. He whined and shook her off sullenly. Heidi tried to hide her chuckling as his cheeks turned red as tomatoes.

“Don’t you guys have a secretary or something for that? You live in a Tenorman building now.” Stan asked as he tossed the remainder of his uneaten dinner in the trash.

“Yeah, but she’s a lazy bitch anyway, and Mom let her take the day off,” Cartman replied, shrugging. “If it was up to me, I’d have a whole bunch of-”

He was cut off by a loud bang, followed quickly by two identical sounds. Everyone froze in place as a shrill scream hit the air below them. “Were those gunshots?” Heidi yelped.

The five ran to the elevator, but Wendy shook her head. “There’s no time. We have to take the stairs!”

12 flights of stairs weren’t exactly a walk in the park, and Cartman was panting by the time they reached the first floor. “Mom!” he called frantically, looking around. “Mom!”

He spotted a woman in a black dress on the ground, lying in a pool of crimson. “Oh my god, Mom!” he screamed, rushing to her side. The others felt the color drain from their faces; it was already too late.

“Call the cops! Get an ambulance! Do something!” Cartman shouted, feeling warm tears gush down his rosy cheeks. He grabbed Liane’s hand tightly and shook her.

“Mom? Mom, can you hear me?”

She’d been shot three times: twice in the stomach and once in the chest. She was already weak from blood loss, and she answered with a faint cough. Looking up with damp, glassy eyes, she stroked his wet face. “Eric?”

“Yeah Mom? What is it? Who did this? I’ll kill the bastards!”

“That-” she coughed again, feeling warm blood trickle her chin. “That doesn’t matter, sweetie. I need to talk to you.”

“I’m right here Mom! You’re going to be okay!”

She shook her head as he continued to sob. “Listen, darling. You’re never going to be alone. Even… even after I die, I’ll be with you. I can’t help you anymore though.”

“Mom! Don’t die, please don’t die!”

“Look at me, Eric.” She cradled his cheek, speaking softly. “There is so much wrong with this city, and you can change it. I know you can. You’re going to do great things, sweetie, and I just wish I could be around to see it.”

“Mom…”

“You’re a great man, Eric.”

Liane’s dark eyes went blank as police sirens wailed in the background. Cartman clutched her cold hand, and he could feel the pearl bracelet around her wrist brush against his palm. Heidi kneeled beside him and wrapped her thin arms around his chest. The other three could only stand motionless in the background.

Later on, Kyle would note that night as the exact moment when Eric Cartman underwent a very subtle change for the better.


End file.
